


Wish That You Were Here

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Post-Canon, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8168774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: Brienne woke with a start, instinctively turning towards the other side of the bed, where the warmth that her most recent dream had indicated. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the light of the waning moon bathing her room in an otherworldly glow, only emptiness greeting her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another post-canon, slightly angsty piece so I do apologise if you read any similarities between this and my story yesterday. I'll get back to writing actual dialogue and interaction very soon, I promise. This one was inspired by Florence and the Machine's Wish That You Were Here and I couldn't stay away from writing something for today's prompt.
> 
> Thank you, as always, to the wonderful RoseHeart and fabulous Sandwhiches for their friendship and support. Also thank you to Quinn and Mikki for setting up this appreciation week and everyone over at JBO for keeping me thinking and shipping! That round robin fic is amazing and I'll spend the next couple of weeks catching up with all the great stories added to the 2016 appreciation week collection. I'm really looking forward to it! (I also need to reply to all your comments, but I just want to say THANK YOU again for all your kind words!)
> 
> Anything you recognise here doesn't belong to me, including certain lyrics from the Florence and the Machine song.

Brienne woke with a start, instinctively turning towards the other side of the bed, where the warmth that her most recent dream had indicated. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the light of the waning moon bathing her room in an otherworldly glow, only emptiness greeting her.

It had been nearly a year since peace had washed over Westeros like a storm filled with promise, but she was still having trouble adjusting to the island way of life she'd left behind after deciding to embark on her first quest. So much had happened since then, since she'd last embraced her father, her remaining childhood lost somewhere between the cruel games of Renly's Rainbow Guard and a shocking confession shared amongst the steam and solitude at Harrenhal.

There was more to life on the road than what had been taken from her, but Brienne couldn't forget the exact fates of Lady Catelyn and Hyle Hunt, the memories too raw even with time and physical distance. The scars around her neck may have healed, but the guilt that had wrapped itself around her heart hadn't lessened. For all the pain she'd experienced, somehow, when the evenings drew to a close and the quiet led her into contemplation, it was almost harder to focus on the few, bright spots that used to make her smile. Even now Oathkeeper lay by her bed, from habit more than necessity, and Ser Podrick had to be talked out of standing guard at her door night after night. She often wondered if he, too, struggled to trust the silent shadows after what they'd seen.

The war itself, when it had engulfed the north in an avalanche of death, had felt like a nightmare without end. Those who'd survived to see the dull, desolate dawn had been unable to forget how the brothers in black and Winterfell's legacy had been wiped away in the blink of an all seeing eye. The turning seasons afterwards had left Brienne restless, her heart and mind at odds, despite there having been so many times she'd felt safe with _him_ sleeping at her back during the long night, the dark and cold and Jaime Lannister her only constant companions until benevolence had arrived to burn the icy hand of winter.

Circumstance had allowed them to bypass the normal boundaries of propriety for a while, but they both knew that the triumphant return of the Targaryen bloodline meant their alliance or friendship or emotional entanglement was soon to come to an end. She couldn't let Tarth fall into further wreck and ruin, wouldn't leave her ailing father without a capable legacy, and Jaime's punishment came hand in hand with a new set of duties in a kingdom far away from her own. At least her pleas for mercy had been heard and his heart still beat in his chest, too far for her to hear, though it was.

Had she not already experienced a similar rush of emotion while fighting her confused feelings for a beautiful, one handed man well before her twentieth name day, Brienne would never have believed anything could haunt her as much as Jaime's absence now did. The maelstrom of feelings travelled with her every step she took, across calming sapphire waters, what they'd almost had and what they'd lost always on her mind.

Brienne had never really minded spending long periods of time in her own company before. After all she'd grown up an ugly, motherless child with few acquaintances who weren't searching for good favour from her family. But ever since her father had been ordered to his bed, Evenfall had begun to feel as empty and forbidding as a tomb. While little had changed within the walls, it just didn't feel like _home_ anymore.

Home had been wherever Jaime was.

She gasped for breath at that silent truth, the weight of her thoughts suddenly crushing, blinding in their purity, shocked that she had finally allowed herself to unearth a secret that should have stayed deeply buried.

They'd left so much unsaid.

Reaching for the unlit candle that rested on her nightstand, the sun rising early enough now that she rarely needed it to move through the castle, Brienne threw back the blankets and climbed out of bed before she fell deeper into acceptance. It had come as a great surprise to learn that Jaime was allowed to write to her whenever he pleased, now that the Dragon Queen was sure all her subjects knew that mercy came with a price. She could have sent him north, back to retrace his steps as other men punished by law struggled to cope with harsh conditions and meagre building supplies. Instead, Jaime was forced to rule, acting as his brother's proxy at Casterly Rock, nothing more than a comfortably kept prisoner. And while it was all too easy to hear his voice echoing around her room as they discussed peaceful trade routes and battles long over, he was still so far away, banished from the life they could have been living, if only she'd been brave enough to speak a word of love when slowly drowning in the cold embrace of winter's kiss.

Fighting the urge to study what she did wrong during their last, stilted goodbye, Brienne bent down beneath the carved mantelpiece and encouraged her candle to join with the remnants of last night's light, no longer taking for granted the little things that kept the castle's occupants alive. The room was still partially set up in memory of a boy who drowned, the older members of the household quick to remind Brienne that he was supposed to be the one helping bring the island back to its former glory, not the girl who allied with Lannisters and became the subject of many a bawdry tavern song. And though her childhood chamber remained unused, the continued glares of her father's advisors during each of their morning meetings confirmed that it wouldn't be fitting for the Evenstar's heir to crawl back into her too small bed and wish that everything could be the way it was when she closed her eyes. They were right on some level, however, she'd been through too much, loved and lost almost everything, to step back in time and give up what could be dangling just out of reach.

So, she carefully picked out a path to her desk, quill and ink, parchment and seal never more than arm's length away, and began to search for a time when Jaime's smile had felt brighter, his words sharper, his presence more palpable, agonising over the right thing to say.

As dawn broke, she moved to watch the world wake from the window, irritated that her letter was full of trite pleasantries and queries about the weather, unable to voice the hope that Jaime may, sometimes, think about her. Bathed in a golden glow that seemed to make the water glisten more than usual, Tarth was beautiful beneath a sky dotted with fluffy clouds and pairs of twirling seabirds. It left her momentarily speechless before her focus switched to the vaguely familiar scarlet sails of a ship coming in to dock. It could have just been a figment of her tired mind, though, as occasionally she thought she'd caught a glimpse of him in the gardens beyond the castle, when the sun was at its height, his beauty fitting in her moment of need but never feeling like more than wishful thinking.

Yawning, Brienne shook her head, deciding they were more cherry than scarlet, and returned to try and finish her letter with the same two lines of longing she'd nearly written every time the ghost of his presence woke her.

_I miss you._

_I wish you were here._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! (If anyone is interested, I may be persuaded into writing a companion piece to this with a Jaime POV)


End file.
